Guardian of The Edge
By Agnes Marton
Winging out jetskinned,
melting off the steel.
Harsh, naked speed
upwards, then saundering.
Everywhere your arms.
Insomniac minutes
to loot.
Here, cherish,
I paint words for you
to frame.
Guardian of the Edge,
I shush pain and fear
from your dreams.
Intact,
shadowless harbour.
Agnes Marton is a hungarian-born poet, editor, linguist, translator. Regularly cooperates with visual artists. Her book: ‘Sculpture/poésie’.
Budget Family Room
By Helen Addy
TV veiled with a white towel;
nightlight of soft blur,
dancing Impressionism.
Towel rail disconnected
for your safety;
parcel tape licking bare wires.
Fist sized holes in the plaster;
kids’ questions answered
with giant mice.
Keycard intruders at 1am;
adrenalin misfired into a family
given the wrong room.
Loose guttering outside
turning night rain into crackling fireworks;
morning sun into slices of light.
Helen Addy, 33, is from Forres and has been previously published in BUGGED, Pushing Out the Boat, SOUTH and Carillon.
